Chapter 11 - Smoke and Shattered GlassThe sound of shattering glass echoed through the west wing as the first concussion grenade detonated near the service staircase. The shockwave rattled the antique frames on the wall and filled the corridor with a dense, choking haze of white smoke.
Leo didn’t flinch. With the cool precision of a veteran marksman, he pulled Clara slightly behind his shoulder, raised his Beretta, and fired twice through the blinding fog. A heavy thud followed—someone in tactical gear hit the Persian rug and didn’t get back up.
"Stay low and move toward the reinforced balcony door," Leo ordered, his voice cutting cleanly through the ringing in her ears. "The eastern staircase is compromised. We have to reach the roof before they blow the structural supports."
Clara gripped the compact pistol Leo had given her. Her left wrist still throbbed inside its white cast, but the adrenaline surging through her veins completely numbed the pain. She wasn't the terrified maid who had dropped a gravy boat hours ago; she was Julian Bennett’s daughter, fighting for survival in a war her family never asked for.
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"I'm right behind you," Clara said, her voice steady.
They sprinted down the corridor, dodging falling plaster and shattered overhead light fixtures. Outside, the rain poured relentlessly, turning the estate's sprawling gardens into a muddy battlefield where armed figures in dark tactical gear were swarming the lower terraces.
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